Category: writing

having said that, i’m not a morning person. at all. i would sleep through the entire morning if i could. which doesn’t really paint me in a positive light but what can i say? i love sleeping.

which is a shame, really. i mean, all that potential wasted when i could’ve been doing something else. like, i don’t know, blog? seriously, the number of backlogs i have is starting to become ridiculous but that’s the thing with writing. it doesn’t always come easy. a lot of times words elude me. i’m currently reading stephen king’s “on writing: a memoir of the craft” and he’s right:

“Sometimes you have to go on when you don’t feel like it, and sometimes you’re doing good work when it feels like all you’re managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position.”

but that’s the thing. i don’t like shoveling shit. i mean, i deal with enough shit at work (like, literally.) already that i just wanna skip that dirty bit and get on to the part where i got my grooves locked down.

which is stupid because heaven knows no one really becomes great overnight. i mean, look at me. i’ve been blogging since 2007 and my mom isn’t even my fan!

my dad reads some of my posts, though. either because he has no choice or feels compelled to do so out of pity for his little swimmer sending him links on viber to please check her stuff out at the guise of sharing photos of his beloved granddaughter.

but it’s cool. i mean, i know what my purpose is for my blog and popularity isn’t it. which is why i’m off facebook now. it feels awkward when people who actually know me read my posts. it makes me very self-conscious.

i blush rather easily.

on the other hand, i know it’s nice to share a part of my life with the world too. if not for meaningful life lessons, then for the mere camaraderie of being in this same physical dimension together.

you know, shoot the breeze. talk about the weather. appreciate that you’re there and i’m here and we’re both alive right at this very moment and that anytime soon i might bore you to death with my writing.

you feelin’ me?

so, yeah…

crazy how much shit i can shovel out of my initial plan to write about sunset.

raven had fun on this day, though. i did too, especially since her auntie was looking out for her most of the time while i sat in the pop-up tent with met-met cracking pistachios and talking about whatever.

pop-up tents. folding them down is like tackling a rabid beast. jeff makes it look so easy. but unfortunately, he wasn’t there. so between el2, met2, and me giving it a hundred tries, we broke one of the poles just to be able to stick it in its bag. even then, only half of it went in. as long as it was at least flat, we were happy.

back at home, jeff wasn’t. and why would he be? it was his favorite tent, after all.

“you broke it!” he cried. “how hard is it to fold this thing down?! it’s very simple. see…?” he whinged, all the while showing me how it’s done.

“you know what, jeff, it’s just a fucking tent,” i replied, feigning irritation with a subtle hint of world war III coming right up. “i’ll buy you a new one.”

and that, my friends, is how you scare a man into silence.

i didn’t mean it, of course. no way i’m spending money on another tent. i’m still regretting buying that big-ass one we used for camping last year. omigod. i should tell you all about it. but that’s another backlog just waiting to see the light of day.